


Meet Me Halfway

by ratafia



Series: Kinktober 2019 [18]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Porn with Feelings, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Transgender Shepard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 19:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratafia/pseuds/ratafia
Summary: Garrus loves everything about his human girlfriend. There are, however, some things that he doesn't get to enjoy too often, so they become much more precious when he can.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: Kinktober 2019 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504529
Kudos: 49





	Meet Me Halfway

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth days of Kinktober - Hair Pulling + Deepthroating. 
> 
> This was born from my headcanon that Garrus would be absolutely fascinated with Shepard's hair. :3  
And yes. There is a lot more fluff than actual smut in this. I regret nothing.

There were so many things wrong with being resurrected in some underground laboratory by a shady organisation.   
It was hard to grasp all the implications, all the aspects that made her feel violated... So she preferred to focus on the details.   
Something she could still control.   
Change.   
One of them, the one she had actually learned to like even, was her hair.   
Throughout her military career, Alisha tried so many ways to style her hair, but each left her unsatisfied somehow. Some were too difficult to maintain, others impractical, some she didn't like the look of much.   
In the end, by the time the whole mess with Reapers started and she met Garrus, she had settled on the easiest one. Which was shaving it, leaving only a minimalistic and comfortable buzz cut.   
The problem was, while she was lying unconscious at the Lazarus, nobody bothered to shave her head, of course.   
So her hair grew longer and longer... Reaching her shoulders by the time Miranda had woken her up.   
It was the first time in years that Alisha had actually seen and felt her hair being so long.   
It needed a lot of care, what with the focus of the doctors on bringing her back to life, not on making her look pretty... So the first order of business on the first station they came to--Omega--for her became braiding it.   
So that's how she met her future boyfriend, one infamous Archangel - with tight cornrows. 

There was too much action for her to keep them any other way.   
Still, Alisha did her best to track down some quality hair products on the Citadel. They helped a lot with making her feel a little bit like herself.   
A little bit more pretty.   
A little bit more _human._   
She had no idea that somebody was watching all those changes even closer than she herself did.

It was just bad luck.   
Or maybe the best luck.   
She was simply open after detonating her Tech Armor against the swarm of bots that surrounded her, and her shields were down but only for a moment...  
She was open, and she didn't like to wear the helmet, stubbornly using the flimsy contraption that boosted her biotics. 

"I can kill people with my bare hands, Garrus, I don't need a helmet," - she used to say when he worried. 

And now she was bleeding on the floor, unmoving, and he was lost.   
He couldn't lose her again.   
Rage, terror, blind and nauseating panic.   
Not right now, when they're finally were starting to...   
He was sniping out the rest of the mercs while Miranda called for the evac.   
He was cradling her limp body in his arms, listening desperately for the stuttered breaths on her bloodied lips.   
There was just so much blood. 

Doctor Chakwas told him to get out after the third time he growled at her.   
He couldn't help himself, no matter that he’d been told that it wasn’t a lethal injury, that the bullet had simply grazed her skull...   
The panic still sloshed inside of him, ice-cold tentacles gripping his heart.   
It was simply wrong for her to be so still, so pale, so defenceless.   
She was the strongest person he knew.   
She was his life.   
He couldn't lose her again, those two years were hellish enough...

"Hey, how's Shepard?" 

Tali. He didn't even notice that she’d came up to him.   
Her voice was gentle and worried though, she held a wet cloth in her hands. She offered it to Garrus. 

"She'll make it. It's Shepard, remember? Not like some bullet can stop her. You look like a mess, though," - she kept talking, even though he didn't have the words to answer. 

Only a stuttered breath when she swiped the cloth over his face and neck, and it came off crimson.   
Shepard's blood.   
He was covered in it, and he didn't notice.   
He _was_ a mess, wasn't he.   
He did manage a thankful grunt for Tali when she finished cleaning him up.   
He felt a smidge better without the incessant reminder of his own carelessness in the metallic stench of the battle. He should have made her wear the helmet.   
He should have...

Just as Garrus punched a wall, the pain radiating through his hand, there was a slender palm covering his fist. Stopping him.   
Thane this time.   
He didn't say anything, though.   
Simply patted Garrus on the shoulder and stood near him, in silent support, full of understanding.   
Strangely, it helped.   
They weren't exactly friends, but being alone right now was a far more terrifying alternative. 

"You can see her now. One person," - Chakwas looked tired when she finally opened up the med-block, but at least she didn't look worried. 

Garrus walked in before she had even finished talking. 

"You have fifteen minutes. She needs rest." 

And then they were alone.   
She looked so... small.   
Laying in the pristine white bed, she still smiled at him. Even though half her face was hidden by the bandages.

"Oh, come on, Vakarian. Don't look at me like that. It's not like I took a _rocket_ to my face..." 

"That's not funny." 

"It's a little funny..." - she grinned, wincing immediately when the motion pulled on the wound. 

He couldn't see the extent of the damage below the bandages and was grateful for that.   
Garrus took her hand and she squeezed his fingers back. Not as strong as usual, but there. Alive.   
_Alive._   
In the end it was Alisha who ended up comforting him when he broke down right there, by her bed, cradling her soft human palm in his own, unable to let go.   
_Never again._

Three days came and went, before he was forced into bed for some proper rest.   
It took Tali, Thane and Chakwas herself to do it, too. And an explicit order from Shepard.   
He did go, but only when he was told that Alisha was finally allowed to sleep back at her quarters. He fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.   
Garrus would never admit it, but he did feel better after a rest in, not so comfortable, but still a bed, the fuzz from his head gone and his thoughts much more clear and focused.   
A check of the clock showed it was time for breakfast and right on cue, his stomach rumbled hungrily.   
All the progress he made with sleep flew right out the airlock when he stepped into the mess and saw her.   
Garrus didn't even recognise her at first glance, but his nose confirmed that yes, this was most definitely Alisha.   
Alisha, whose head looked like some furry creature had settled there.   
It wasn’t even furry, exactly...  
Garrus was snapping off his gloves automatically. He needed to touch that, whatever it was.   
Fluffy, fuzzy, tight black curls combined of the finest tiny strands, all tangled together... Propped up by the remaining bandages. 

"What the.. Garrus?" - she was startled, at first, but relaxed after seeing him. 

She had to throw her head back for this, the strange thing on her head swaying with it.   
Hair. That was her hair, for the first time since he’d known her, set free and... It was absolutely beautiful.   
And so _soft._   
She giggled when he gently tugged on one of the fuzzy spirals and, to his stunned surprise, it straightened out... Growing longer with it.   
And then it snapped back into shape as soon as he let go.   
He did it again. And again. No matter which ones he tried to straighten out, they always got back to the curly state, just growing a little bit more disheveled and fuzzy. Soft. 

"Should we leave you two alone, Commander?" - drawled Jacob when Garrus couldn't resist the temptation any longer and simply smashed his face into the black locks. 

It smelled like Alisha, medigel and... fruits. He didn't recognise which ones, probably something human then, but it was a fresh, pleasant scent.   
He was careful not to touch the bandages, simply breathing her in for as long as she allowed.   
The curls tickled his nose and mandibles. Out of curiosity he licked one of the bouncy spirals and it stuck to his tongue. 

"Are you... eating my hair? Garrus. _Really?_" - Alisha still hadn't moved. He could feel her shifting in her seat, but she didn't try to move away. It was probably not the best course of action to actually eat those strange... strands? He still wasn't sure what to call them. 

"Why have you never worn it like this before?" - he blurted out, with both his heads still kneading in the curls, trying to shape it differently. And he could, actually, the mass was so flexible, and...

"Well, it's not really convenient... Especially in battle. It's a real pain to try and wash out the dirt out..." - she was rambling. Garrus tore himself away from her hair for a moment, glancing at her face, and true to his guess, she was flushed so hard it was noticeable against the rich color of her skin. He loved it, actually, the dark splatters of those marks--freckles, she called them--growing brighter against the rosy shade. 

"I didn't realise you'd like it that much... I mean. It seems like you do," - Alisha laughed, more self-deprecating than she had any reason to be. 

"I _love_ it." 

"A-and there goes my breakfast. Thanks, you two are disgusting," - Jack mimicked gagging noises over her plate, but didn't actually stop eating. She was strange like that. Not as strange as Kasumi, who...was taking photos of them? 

Good thing Garrus had a much more pleasant things to concentrate on at the moment than the weird humans Alisha liked to collect. 

To his great disappointment, Alisha braided her hair back the day she was cleared by Chakwas to do so.   
She apologized to him, promising to let it free some other time...  
Tali offered him a tissue, trying not to laugh. Thane patted his shoulder again, hiding a smile.   
Of course he realised that however Alisha would want to wear her hair, it was her choice. He'd never try to tell her otherwise.  
But his fingers still remembered the soft and fuzzy feel of those curls beneath them, and he wanted more.   
They also gave Alisha such a different look, framing her face in a soft aureole... Just like an angel, and much more deserving of the name that he ever had been. 

But the deeper into Reaper's manipulations they sunk, the less time there was to think about such frivolous things.   
They raced against time and the tides of fate, fought against the entire galaxy with just a handful of people, or so it seemed at times. 

They slept almost two days straight after their return from the Omega-3 relay.   
Nobody said a thing when Alisha tugged him by hand into her cabin, and he went without a word of protest.   
Truth is, they both needed it.   
To simply hold each other in their arms while they slept. And when one of them would woke from a nightmare, the other would be there to hug tighter, to reassure, that they'd made it, they're free, _they're alive._

But when Garrus woke up finally rested, there was only emptiness in his arms. 

"Hey, hey, I'm here," - her voice soothed the alarmed thrill caught in his throat. 

And she was there, sitting at the edge of the bed.   
Her fingers in her hair, half of them still in even rows of those patterns she usually wore--_they're called braids, Garrus, braids_\--but the other half... Free.   
The difference looked so jarring. He reached to the soft curls already, and she laughed, her eyes crinkling in happiness. 

"Figured you'd like it. We are having some downtime anyway, so I thought... Might as well." 

"Very good idea. _Commander,_" - she giggled, leaning into his touch. 

He kissed her, his fingers once again buried in the tickling softness.   
Since they had some downtime, they might as well spend a little more of it in bed, right? 

If somebody asked Garrus, which was worse - to think that Shepard had been dead for two years, or the six months they were forced to spend apart, he'd choose the two years without much indecision.   
But deep inside he knew, there was very little difference.   
He was only marginally more confident that they'd meet again. He almost lost that hope when he heard about the attack on Earth.   
And then here she was, standing on Palaven as if nothing had ever happened, and it took every shred of his resolve not to run to her and kiss her, in sight of every soldier and general.   
One of the reasons he loved Alisha, is that she never had such reservations.   
As soon as she heard him, saw him, her face lit up with the happiest smile and she flew into his arms.   
Their armor clinked together when she wrapped her legs and arms around him.   
And then she kissed him, without a doubt or a second of preparation. Just diving into it as she dove into battle, swift and lethal. Her soft lips were killing him with every touch, with every breath they shared. 

"I missed you," - she whispered, connecting their foreheads, catching his eyes. 

Her brown ones sparkled, reflecting the passing lights of the ships drifting by. He wished to get lost in that warm color for all eternity and just stay there, forget about the war, and death, and the endless months spent without her slender figure in his arms. 

"I missed you," - he echoed, clutching her tighter. 

It seemed like the Normandy had gotten bigger since he’d left.   
Just an illusion, of course, but nonetheless it felt that way.   
And it was as crowded as ever, with all the personnel always scrambling to get somewhere or do something, with the war and all.   
But even there, in the bustle and craziness of the constant pressure on them, people managed to live their lives somehow.   
Especially humans, truly, they were in some aspects as resilient as krogans, Garrus often thought.   
They were a lot more imaginative though...

"Alisha... wasn't Rayan's hair red?" 

He was keeping her company as she prepared her lunch, a task made much more demanding since the ship's cook had left along with other Cerberus personnel. 

"Hm? Oh, yeah. She dyed it. Yesterday, I think," - Shepard didn't turn around, leaving him to stare at the woman in wonder all by himself. He was pretty much used to all the various shapes and sizes of human fringes... Well, hair, but he had never seen them just _change_ so suddenly. 

"Why? Will it come off? It looks pretty real..." 

"Of course it's real, Garrus. I'm not sure how long it'll stay, depends on what kind of dye she used..." - this time she did look up from the pan, but only to look at him, as if trying to figure out something. 

"There are different kinds?" 

"Yes. Some come off in a few days, some stay for months, or even years... If the person doesn't cut their hair off by that point. You can only dye hair that’s already grown," - he was nodding, fascinated by the whole concept. He was still looking at Rayan, her hair was straight and short, usually kept together by a rubber band. Today she let it lay freely, red strands suddenly turned pitch black, without even a shadow of what they once were. Even her brows were black now. 

Garrus turned his gaze back to Shepard. Her hair was always black, and... well, everywhere. He knew that much.   
As much as he tried, he couldn't picture it any other way.   
How would she change with her hair as red as Rayan's had? Or even lighter? He had seen humans with rather strange for them colors too, like purple or green. 

"Stop thinking so much, Vakarian, you'll hurt yourself." 

She teased, and he growled at her in jest till she giggled. The topic was quickly forgotten then, in the whirlwind of events and things they needed to take care of.   
Or so he thought. 

Garrus hated the Reapers.   
It wasn't exactly a new feeling, but now, after he had seen what they were capable of...  
The merciless, mindless destruction they wreaked upon everything and everyone...   
It had to stop.   
_They_ had to stop it.   
No matter what it cost them, and how many sleepless nights and spilled blood and tears it took.   
But even then, he was just one, weak, mortal being and he needed rest.   
Just as Shepard did, and he made sure they took it at every opportunity that presented itself. Because more than any time before, their tomorrow was not promised. The next minute wasn't promised.   
They could end up in the fiery pits of hell at any moment, so he'd be damned if he didn't take those that escaped that fate and not spend them with the person he loved the most. 

"Alisha?" - he called out, even though the space of her cabin was so obviously empty. 

This was strange, she usually waited for him here or in the hangar bay to go on shore leave together… And he had already checked the hangar bay. 

"If I may, Garrus. The Commander has requested your presence at the Presidium Plaza. I had sent the precise location to your omni-tool," - EIDI's voice piped up from nowhere just as he was leaving. 

"Thank you," - he was already out the door. 

Such a sudden invitation had meant either something very bad... or very good. 

It was the second one.   
It was most certainly the second one and Garrus could not care less at the odd looks people gave him at the sound he made when he saw her.   
Standing with her back facing him, leaning on the railing, waiting.   
The artificial wind swaying her hair, free once again, the fuzzy halo reaching her shoulders by now.   
And the light, slick fabric of her white dress. He knew it was something called silk, her favourite, because she had few other things made of it.   
But this dress was officially _his_ favorite now.   
The flowing silhouette, and the plunging cut, letting him see all the expanse of her back, the curve of her spine, the splattering of scars and freckles... It was a short one, too, and her legs were accentuated with the open, high-heeled shoes.   
She was a vision, and when she turned, she’d probably heard him, or maybe just to check, whether he was coming or not...   
Garrus was lucky he didn't swallow his tongue at the sight.   
It was a close thing, too, for now it was surely a goddess walking towards him with a shy smile.   
The dress looked even more stunning from that angle. The thin fabric clung to her like a second skin, shining in the light, a bright, blinding contrast to her skin. To her curves, seemingly covered only by that dress.   
Her neck was circled with a glimmering silver chain, the end of it getting lost between her breasts.   
Similar chains were on her wrists. And her ankles.   
He forgot all about them when he saw her hair.   
Where there was only black before, now was another color too.   
Simple, geometric patterns that took him a moment to recognise, but when he did...   
Dark blue, not just similar, _the same_ as his colony marks. The shape of them too, mirrored in the halo of her hair, and even the shade of her makeup was the same. 

"Well... What do you think?" 

She looked up at him, adjusting her hair in a nervous gesture. He noticed that even her nails were done in the same blue.   
She'd gone all out, all for him.   
And there she was, swirling on the spot, biting her lip and smiling.   
The white dress swirled with her, the folds of fabric shifting, sliding along her skin. Tempting. 

"Garrus?" 

He needed to say something, he didn't want to worry her.   
But what could he say to express the overwhelming, bursting out of him love for this woman. There were no words in this universe to do her justice.   
All he could do is reach out.   
Half afraid that she'd disappear as a mirage under his touch.   
Too beautiful to be real.   
Too precious to be his.   
Yet she stood, slow, hesitant smile blooming on her face at his touch.   
She was so warm, and so real, her skin soft, _all of her_ soft when he leaned in, connecting their foreheads.   
She came into his arms easily, gladly, melting into him with a familiarity that still seemed impossible at times.   
They were so different, yet fit so well together. 

"Alisha." 

"Hey." 

"Alisha."

He loved her so much it hurt, the subtle ache under his plates - constant.   
Never ending, singing stronger at the sound of her happy laughter.   
He wished she could always laugh just like that, cradled in his arms, safe and beautiful. 

Apparently, that wasn't all the surprise she had planned.   
Garrus was very much torn between looking forward to whatever she’d prepared and dragging her into the closest semi-private space and tearing that dress off her.   
He had gotten more disapproving looks from fellow turians passing by, when he couldn't contain the possessive thrills with her looking so ravishing, wrapped around his arm.   
Her idea was dancing.   
There was an open event in the Presidium for boosting morale, and they’d set up a big dance floor in the middle of one of the levels.  
She drew him in the throng of swirling couples, and he was lost once again.   
Enchanted by her smile, her hips swaying to the rhythm, by the curve of her neck when she threw her head back, so unabashedly joyful. 

_"Baby, the best part of me is you,_  
_Lately, everything's makin' sense, too_  
_Oh, baby, I'm so in love with you"_

She whispered along with the song, a human duet that somehow knew exactly what was going on in his heart.   
The last notes of the song played out, and he dipped her, so fragile, so delicate.   
But unbreakable, and strong.   
Everything he needed, everything he wanted.   
Here, in his arms, giggling still as he kissed her, pressing closer into him.   
They didn't have the strength to dance for much longer, though. 

"Damn, Garrus... Try not to rip the dress, it's really expensive, you know." 

She might have said so, but it was also Alisha who had thrown her leg over his hip, the hem of the dress riding high. 

"I'll buy you another one," - he rumbled into her neck, and the silver was a cold line against his tongue when he licked along it. 

They managed to make it to the couch.   
Well, he made it, Alisha though, still had plans, clearly.   
Her eyes were determined, and the black of her pupils was blown so wide he almost couldn't see the brown.   
He didn't need to see it to know just how turned on she was already.   
It was all in her scent, almost cloying by now, and he'd be happy to just suffocate in it.   
The grin on her lips was teasing, and then he was lost once again.  
She had always had that effect on him.   
And now she had some new and effective ways for it too.   
Like tugging at the threads on her shoulders until the knots unraveled, and the fabric slid down and down her body in one motion, leaving her bare under his gaze, save for the thin black lace panties.   
Which didn't hide a thing, they couldn't, more displaying her excitement obscenely than covering it. Yet when he reached out to touch, she stopped him. 

"Let me..." - she whispered, her fingertips running over his carapace, familiar. 

Ridding him of his clothes, quick and efficient, even though there was a subtle blush settled on her cheeks.   
That was all her - the temptress, confident yet every time just a little bit shy. As if not sure if she was allowed. Little did she know, she could do literally anything to him, with him. 

Though he might just lost his consciousness in the process. Or mind. Or both.   
Would've been worth it.   
As she kneeled in between his legs, the tip of her tongue running over the lower lip. As if she had prepared to eat some treat. 

She moaned as if he was a treat too.   
Soft, always so soft, he couldn't believe she wanted to be near him at all.   
She was all gentle grace when he felt like sharp edges, ready to tear her apart.   
But this impossible woman, this little, soft human possessed the strength of the gods.   
Descended straight from Heavens to bring him higher with but a flick of her tongue.   
She knew what to do by now.   
Knew how to make him desperate, knew just where to put those curious fingers that could so easily wreak havoc and destruction as much as bring pleasure, depending on her mood.   
Alisha closed her eyes, humming, her lips stretched around his cock, all soft heat burning him alive.   
It's then that he finally noticed it.   
The patterns of blue, that ran through her hair and like this... connected with those painted around her eyes.   
The marks the same as his, and she must have known what it meant.   
And she’d done it anyway.  
Maybe she did it _because_ of that. 

He couldn't contain the surge of possessiveness, and where he was momentarily scared by it, she was not.   
Just the opposite, she relaxed under his grip in her hair, allowed him to take control, just like that.   
Moaned, when he pulled at those soft curls that now marked her as his.   
Obediently she went down and down as he thrust his hips up.   
Impossible, absolutely impossible.   
He could see her eyes watering from the strain, but she looked... blissful.   
Hollowing her cheeks on every push down, fully trusting him to not to go too far, just as her hands slipped down her own body.   
Twisted her nipple, the blue streaks of her fingernails on the swell of her breasts.   
It was delectable, the sultry look she gave him, the whine on her lips as his fingers twitched, pulled on the colored strands tighter.   
He could feel every ragged breath she took, the warmth of them fanning over the wet length of his cock.   
He could feel as she swallowed around him, her throat working to keep up with the quicker pace.   
He could see how her hands slipped into her panties, mirroring the rhythm he set out on her own flesh.   
He could smell the honeyed aroma of her arousal mixing with the salty undertones of the tear that slid down her cheek.   
It smudged the blue, her eyelashes fluttering with another moan... 

It was such an obscene sight, as she tried to follow him, fighting against the grip of his hands for the first time... to get back to his cock. But he had to withdraw, because he was already on the edge.   
And he wanted just a little bit more of her. 

"Lube?" 

Garrus was momentarily caught off guard when she reached into the sofa's cushions instead of getting up... That is, before she uncovered the small bottle hidden there. He didn't actually notice it right away, because she was a wicked woman and leaned into him for her search, her breasts framing his cock...

"Really, Alisha?" - he had forced himself to talk, to focus on shaping the words instead of incoherent growling if only not to come right then and there. 

It was a close call, closer with the playful smile and the innocent shrug she gave in reply. A temptress. 

"How do you want me?" 

A torturer.   
She dared to say such things without a doubt, offering herself so easily... So eager.   
He chased his own taste on her tongue, drew her closer, on the couch with him.   
Only to bend her over the back of it, a momentary distraction, a little piece of calm in the whirlwind of their passion, burrowing his nose in her hair.   
Until it went downhill from there, with only a sigh and the wiggle of her hips.   
Lace tickled the ridges on his cock, promising, teasing. Pleading, just like her impatient whisper of his name. 

A goddess.   
Melded into him so perfectly, shouting her pleasure as he thrust in.   
Throwing her head back, pliant under the returned grip on her hair.   
He couldn't stop touching it, the mix of colors driving him wild, and the wanton whines she uttered with every tug did not help matters any.   
She shook at the scrape of his claws over her scalp and then she was crying out his name, and clenching so tightly around him, and coming, and she was beautiful.   
Splayed beneath him, so his, enraptured in her moment of bliss...   
He trembled as he could not stop himself. As he sunk his teeth into her shoulder as the orgasm took him too. 

An angel.   
Who only smiled at his concern over the blood, shut him up with a lazy kiss.   
Sighed, contented, and toppled him into the pillows and snuggled close. 

"I love you." 

There was light in her eyes.   
Shining right from her soul, the only beacon of hope for him, that maybe, just maybe, they'll get through this hell and find each other on the other end. 

"Hold on... Just... Hold on a second right there," - he rumbled, and she frowned. 

It was probably not the right moment.   
From all he read on the topic, the timing was paramount.   
The right setting, the right mood, the right everything...  
Except the only time he ever felt right is when she was near him, like this, open and soft, glowing with love that he could feel in his bones. 

His hands shook when he unclasped the hidden compartment of the armor she discarded on the floor.   
His legs shook when he sunk down, right as he’d seen on the vids, on one knee.   
His voice shook, and his heart was beating so fast it was akin to a heart attack. 

"Alisha... Will you... Will you marry me?" 

She gasped, her eyes widening, as she saw it.   
He spent a month on just finding the one that felt right.   
The platinum for the ring itself, strong metal so it wouldn't break, as he hoped they wouldn't.   
The setting reminiscing in shape of the hands holding the gem in the middle, in which the bright blue mingled with deep brown. A small sphere, like a planet, encircled with the tiny intertwining metallic patterns. 

The blue of her makeup was ruined further by the tears.   
She sobbed, lifting her wet eyes at him, and he was ready to say goodbye to his hopes, and his life, because why would she be crying, if she was going to say...

"Yes... Yes, yes, Garrus, a thousand times, yes!" 

They may have been headed into the deepest darkness.   
They may have been faced with the scariest nightmares the galaxy could envision.   
They may fall, and die, and fail...

This moment though, in the quiet apartment lit up by the neon lights of the Citadel and the radiant happiness in her eyes, none of it mattered.  
He had his Heaven right here, with the angel in his arms singing her love with laughter.


End file.
